One of the advantages of living in a quiet Brooklyn neighborhood is the slower pace everything moves at.
This allows a certain number of unique characters to hang out at the entrance of the subway station with the purpose of some financial enrichment  -begging. Although I have never given them any money, they insist on talking to me day after day, in any kind of weather. And I, like most everybody, ignore them.

One such character is Benny. He sits on a wheelchair right at the top of the stairs of the Carroll Street station. His favorite phrase, which he repeats every single time you dash by him is “any change to keep me rolling?”  Benny must be in his late 50s or early 60s. You couldn’t really tell. His skin has been wrinkled and browned by the sun and he’s missing most of his teeth and a leg.

He has an orthopedic leg that I never seen him wear, but it’s always around him. He uses it as a tool to call on people or move the wheelchair around, just like a paddle.

One lonely morning I walk pass him and ignore him.  As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear a loud ‘promp, promp, promp, promp, kaplaaaaam!’ noise behind me. I look to the side and see that Benny’s metal leg has landed right next to me.

“Excuse me? Sir?” he yells.

I look up and see him smiling at me with the 2 teeth he has left.

“Would you mind bringing my leg up to me?”

I look at him, and then back at the leg lying next to me.  It is incredibly filthy. On one end, you can see the suction cup with dirt and grime that has accumulated for years. On the other end, there is an old Prada shoe.
“It’s wearing my new shoe and I don’t want to lose it,” He says.

I look all around me, but there’s nobody else in the station. I breathe in, grab the leg by the Prada leather loafer and walk up the stairs, hand it to Benny who snaps it right back on.  I notice he’s not wearing the other Prada shoe.

“My other shoe is at home. They are way too expensive to wear them both at the same time. You should try that. Makes them last longer.”

Never thought about that. With that piece of wisdom in my head, I smile and go down the stairs again.
“God bless you, my son! Thank you!” he yells at me from the top.

From that day on, whenever I walk by Benny, he tells the story to anyone who’s willing to listen.
“Hey! There’s my buddy. He’s the one who saved my leg!” The other beggars look at me and nod. I now have street cred thanks to Benny’s jumping leg.

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